


The Wooing of Antoine Triplett

by toucanpie



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:50:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3128504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toucanpie/pseuds/toucanpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So you don't do the whole cow tipping, deep fried everything, pub crawl style courting out here?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wooing of Antoine Triplett

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperclipbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/gifts).



> Set season one, pre-HYDRA reveals. No particular fidelity to canon, however.

Trip's not sure he's ever gonna adjust to Jemma's bedside manner. First time around he figured it was nerves that had her talking fast about oxygen take-up in rats but another visit and a run-down on radiation poisoning later, he realised it was less of a bug, more of a feature.

These days he just comes in ready to be surprised and goes with the flow. And if Jemma wants to tell him about burying beetles only days after he came close to being buried himself, he figures that's cool. They all have their passions.

"So after the beetles find the dead thing?"

"Well," Jemma says cheerfully, stripping off her gloves and throwing them away. "Then they take all the hair or feathers off the corpse, cover it in secretions and ta dah, food for the brand new family for weeks to come."

"That's gross," Trip says. "But thank you for sharing."

"Isn't nature magical?"

It hurts some, but he laughs. "Sure."

It comes out dopey but only because he's still souped up on the painkillers she'd shot him with. He's at the stage where his head feels heavy when he sets it down and dimmed lights are some instant short-cut to sleeping forever. On the other hand, his arm doesn't hurt as much as it did when some grunt pumped it with iron and left him for dead.

"Look at me," he says, standing up gingerly. "All walking, all talking."

"Hey!" Jemma rushes over to duck under his good arm. "You are not to take it too fast! I know you're getting good at this human pincushion thing but that doesn't mean you can just be standing up on your own whenever you feel like it. Proper recovery plans must be adhered to if you want to make a full recovery."

She gives a little huff as she rearranges his arm over his shoulder, then she checks him gently at the hip.

"Alright now, but we're going to take this very slowly."

She gets him safely to his bunk then returns with more painkillers, a bottle of water, and another pillow. He takes the first two gratefully and sets them on the unit by his bed, followed by the pillow.

"Fitz keeps stealing my bedding, you know," Jemma says mournfully as she helps him toes off his shoes. "I think it's because I got liver on his report last week but honestly it was a mistake."

Trip chuckles and raises his legs slowly onto the bunk. 

"You guys are strange but I like it."

"Aww, Trip," Jemma says, pulling the shutter on the window closed. "We think you're strange but likeable too. Now please gets lots of sleep and stop getting shot."

He gives her a thumbs up and spreads out his covers.

She doesn't move towards the door until he's finished getting comfy. Then she flicks the light and reaches for the handle, her silhouette still and suddenly pensive.

"I never finished telling you about the beetles, did I?" 

"No?"

"No, see sometimes the beetle pair have competition from another pair and have to fight them for the corpse. I suppose it's kind of like everyone scrambling over houses that fall in good school catchment areas. Wait, is that the same here? I mean there is a lot more space here in general and your schools are so big - oh I'm getting off track."

Trip laughs again, feeling his body relax against the pillows, as good as if she were reading him a story.

"What I meant to say is that sometimes the beetle pairs don't fight. They decide to co-habit instead. Then there's four little beetles to bury the corpse and protect the larvae. And I guess if anything were to happen to one of the beetles, well then there'd be two other beetles who could look after the lonely one. Or act as surrogate parents! Or maybe they could just all be really good beetle friends. Together."

She finished with her voice a little higher than how she had started, the way she got sometimes when she was excited about a new formula or worried about something going wrong.

"That's sweet," Trip says gently into the silence, because it was. "Like you said, huh, nature's pretty neat."

"Haha, isn't it just," Jemma says. "Gosh, what am I talking about? I'm just keeping you awake. You have a good sleep now."

Before he could thank her or say the same back, she slid the door closed. He sat for a moment, listening to her footsteps move away and feeling his eyes get heavy. For all the different ways that he tried to interpret the thing about the beetles he couldn't see a way to make it click. 

\----------------

He's hanging in the lounge on his first day back when Fitz swings in to sit beside him.

"Hey, man," he says, flipping the folder he's been studying closed and stretching his neck.

The fun part about being out of the loop for days recovering from injuries was that there was no fun part. All he got for his troubles were mission reports on all the stuff he missed and May eyeing him beadily if he went to close to the punching bag.

("I'm not exercising, I'm just looking at it!"

"Step away from the sports equipment, Agent Triplett.")

"Hey," Fitz replies easily. "Hey, do you remember that time when I didn't like you very much?"

Trip pauses with his head still stretched to the right. 

"Yeah, I remember," he says cautiously, bringing it back to center. "That was fun."

He'd spent a little brainpower wondering which toe it was that he'd trodden on, but no great amount. Sort of figured that some took longer to warm to people than others.

"Did I tape over your game or put my feet up on your desk or something? I mean water under the bridge, man, but you never said."

"Oh, it was nothing specific," Fitz says airily. "I just thought it would be good to make it official. That I don't hate you any more."

"Right," Trip says slowly. It's the first he's heard about it being hate rather than general dislike but he guesses his ego can take it. They're friends now and that's what counts. "Cool. Glad we got that sorted."

"Oh fiddlesticks," Fitz says, swinging to face him with such suddenness that Trip leans back. "What I should've said is I think you're okay. No! I mean, I like you. Well, _we_ like you. All of us but also Simmons and I in particular."

"Right."

"Because we think a lot of the same things sometimes, her and me. I mean we're kind of like a pair. Or maybe a set. The kind of thing you buy together in a shop or that someone gives you two of for Christmas. We're kind of like that, Simmons and I."

Trip nods as seriously as he can manage. At first he tries to hold back his smile but then he realises he has no reason to and lets it out.

"Okay, you and Simmons, best buddies. Good to know because that had totally escaped my attention."

"No, no." Fitz looks mildly anguished. "More than good buddies."

"Oh."

If Trip's honest with himself it's not as much of a surprise as he makes it sound. There are probably plenty of people out there who finish each other sentences without being in a relationship, but the way the two of them look out for each other has always seemed kind of special. 

"Gotcha. And you were worried I was the beetle moving in on you and Simmons' corpse house."

"What?" Fitz says. "Did you just call me a beetle? And suggest that Simmons and I live in a dead people house?"

"Kind of?" Trip says, holding back another smile. A glance at the clock tells him he's due with Coulson in a minute so he stands up reluctantly. Getting grilled about whether or not he's ready to go back to field work is never 100% fun but on the other hand it means he doesn't have to explain where the beetles came from. 

"Look, I gotta go, so you're gonna have to ask your girlfriend about the corpse thing. But thanks for telling me, okay? It's cool that you trust me with that."

"Oh, I am definitely talking to Jemma about the corpse thing," Fitz says darkly.

\----------------

He's going over mission intel with Skye in the briefing area few days later when she looks him in the eye and tells him to sit down.

He doesn't, of course, because he's stubborn like that and it's pretty out of the blue. But then she says "there's something I think you really ought to know" and his butt parks itself on the couch without him thinking about it.

"Shit. Did somebody die?"

"What? No," Skye says. "Like they'd let me break news like that to you, come on. I'm like the worst person for that. I'd either freak out or drown you with hugs."

"Both of which would be a perfectly acceptable in the circumstance."

Skye rolls her eyes. "Stop being nice, you gentleman, you. I'm trying to tell you something here."

Trip sets his elbows on his knees and waits. She looks at ease enough that he doesn't think it can be something bad. The only worry he has is that the thing with Fitz is spreading and she's about to tell him she and Ward are best buddies and more. If that's the case then he reckons it can only be a matter of time before May and Coulson are sitting him down to tell about their upcoming nuptials. Which would be sweet and all but leave him one hell of an odd one out.

"If this is about you and Grant -"

"What?" Skye's eyes go comically wide. "No, nothing to see there. Absolutely not. We are - no. This is about you."

"Me?"

Trip sits back in surprise. "You have something to tell me about me?"

"Well, it's Fitz and Simmons," Skye says. "Those people we work with, you probably know them. I mean they definitely know you."

"Okay, what about them?"

"You should have a chat with them."

"I should?"

"Yes and specifically you should ask them about french stuff. Like eclairs, or Edith Piaf, or useful french phrases such as _merde_ or _ménage à trois_. That sort of thing."

She pauses and then gives him a meaningful eyebrow raise.

Trip has a slow, steady lightbulb kind of moment inside his brain. He's not sure he's quite got the full picture yet, but some parts are starting to come together.

"Woah, I think I understand what we might be talking about."

"Oh thank god," Skye says, collapsing against the desk. "If I have to listen to Jemma suggest one more animal kingdom metaphor or Fitz talk about fixed and moving points again I am going to throw myself out one of these windows."

Trip can't quite help himself.

"So you and Grant definitely aren't -"

"Arghh," Skye says, beating a retreat.

\----------------

He carries the conversation around with him for awhile. First putting it on hold until he has some time to himself and then letting it sit in the corner of his brain til he can work out how he feels.

He knows he's flattered straight off the bat, or he thinks he is, if he's interpreting Skye's nudges the right way. It's one thing to garner the interest of one person, but to turn the head of two so clearly taken with each other? That's a nice feather for the cap.

There's a part of him that feels a new affection for them too. Like they're the sun and he's sitting in their rays getting warm. So he knows he owes them a conversation at the least. Even if just to check that it's not just crossed wires and metaphors running wild.

\----------------

He taps on the glass as he comes into the lab to let them know he's around.

"Oh," Jemma says, setting down a large vial. "Look Fitz, it's Trip."

Fitz swipes at data on their holo screen with a scrunch to his forehead. "Next to that pile of hazardous waste, yes. Wait, I thought we hadn't decided to invite him down here yet?"

"Fitz," Jemma says, patting down her lab-coat. "That's right. We hadn't. I think he must be here of his own accord. Probably because we're needed for something, right?"

Trip spots a lab stool that looks safe enough to sit on so he pulls it out from under a bench. It's not half as comfy as the seats upstairs but he figures it's as good a starting position as any.

"No mission actually, more of a social call."

"Oh," Jemma says, glancing at Fitz. "Well in that case, would you like some - no, wait, we don't have any tea."

"Not allowed in the lab any more, apparently," Fitz says, pinching the data on his screen and throwing it over his shoulder. It disappears as the screen shuts down. "New SHIELD regulation, don't you know. Probably something to do with that incident with the ground bark we took from that one site, actually. Coulson never quite got over that, did he Simmons?"

"So sad," Jemma says. "I mean it wasn't like he drank that much of it. It was really only a tiny sip before we remembered. And we would never do that to you, Trip."

"Absolutely not," Fitz says. "Wouldn't make that kind of mistake twice."

"Quite."

"Also it would be a total waste."

"You still have the bark?" Trip says, alarmed.

"Oh, not of the bark, silly," Jemma replies. "Of you. You and your - you-ness."

She doesn't seem to realise she's holding his gaze until suddenly she's turning away, reddening and taking off her lab-coat.

Trip spots his moment.

"So, what you just did right there? The thing about my me-ness, can I ask why you didn't start with that rather than the beetles?"

Jemma wheels back around to him.

"Fitz, he's - saying things. Thing things." She waves a hand about in excitement and then reaches out for the nearest counter, her fingers wrapping round the edge tightly. "Oh god, that means he knows."

On the other side of the room, Fitz looks less horrified but his hands are also doing a flapping thing.

"We haven't prepared for this," he says, turning one way and then the other. "Agent Triplett, you are here ahead of schedule."

"I am?"

"Not to mention displaying an alarming awareness of the situation."

"The situation?"

"Oh god, he really does know everything," Jemma says, biting down on her fist. "We're so sorry. There was going to be a lot more competency later on, we just hadn't worked up to that bit yet."

Fitz says nothing but points at her like what's she saying is important. Then the two of them shuffle closer together, one of Fitz's hands clutching at Jemma's arm and one of her hands clutching at his coat.

"You guys are amazing," Trip says. It's been a long time since he's seen a relationship in their line of work that's so together. In his experience people who pair up under the burning lights of SHIELD tend to fly apart under the burning lights of SHIELD. Too much pressure, too much separation, too little free time. But there they are, supporting each other, navigating new things, plotting out situations. "You had a whole plan?"

"Of course," Fitz says.

"So you aren't - running away?" Jemma says, unclutching Fitz with visible effort. "We aren't the worst co-workers in the world?"

"Wouldn't be here if you were."

"Oh." Jemma breathes out noisily. "I feel so much better. I've been so worried we were going to it all wrong. Oh Fitz, I think I want to hug him."

Fitz nods, taking his hand off her arm. "Also, we're glad you think we're amazing."

"Well, we are, of course."

They turn back to Trip with smiles, tentative at first but then bigger as he smiles back. Jemma is all but beaming as she comes over to him on his stool.

"Sorry, definitely going to have to hug you now."

He opens his arms wide so there's plenty of room for her, wrapping one arm round the back of her and waving Fitz over with the other.

"You want to get in on this?"

"Oh fine," Fitz says, adding to their bundle of arms and sweater. "Just this once though, PDAs in the lab are on our list of things that are only acceptable under certain circumstances."

"Oh hush, Fitz. This definitely comes under 3a. We made allowances for big emotional moments after the virus, remember?"

"Guys," Trip says. "Spoiling the moment a little here?"

\----------------

"So," Fitz says, hovering half in and half out of the door by Trip's bunk. "Now that everything is out there in the open, Simmons and I were wondering if you would like to join us for an evening of entertainment."

"Woah," Trip says. He knows that they've had the talk now but he honestly never saw the two of them making that move so quick.

"Oh god," Fitz says suddenly. "No - I mean. Not that thing, a different thing. Which isn't a thing-thing. Just a thing." 

"Right." Somewhere along the line Trip must've picked up FitzSimmons speak because that actually makes sense to him. He flips his laptop closed and gets up. "Sure, I'd like to come hang with you guys. What we doing?"

Fitz sags against the door in visible relief.

"Oh you know, watching Midsummer Murders and making voodoo dolls of Ian Quinn. Maybe using the drones to drop marshmallows into things. I'm trialling some new features."

"Reckon I can handle that."

Only one of those really makes any sense to him but he's all about new things.

"Out of curiosity," Fitz says as they move through the plane. "What kind of thing do you do on dates in the US?"

"You mean when I'm not stuck on a plane, saving the world?" Trip shrugs. "Go to the movies, get something to eat, that kind of thing."

Not that he hasn't also been rock-climbing, lindy hopping, and up the Empire State Building on first dates too, but it doesn't feel polite to lay on that kind of pressure.

"So you don't do the whole cow tipping, deep fried everything, pub crawl style courting out here?"

And just when he thought he was getting the hang of their things.

"I have no idea what you just said."

\----------------

Sometimes, sat between them, he feels like a dog between two cats. They've got a whole other language going on before they even get to the science stuff and when they really get going on their academy days he can't do anything but sit back and laugh.

For his part, he lets them know there's more to country than Shania Twain, describes the wildlife he grew up with to make them squirm, and does his best to explain the key points of marshmallow fluff. Sometimes he pretends he's never heard of Stonehenge or questions the authenticity of their playwrights, but mostly he stays up late helping with new prototypes and messing with their game.

Jemma's head fits good tucked under his chin while she talks and Fitz is always warm against his side with a tablet in hand. He knows they're not doing anything a hundred million people haven't done before by spending a little time, but it feels like something significant all the same.

\----------------

**Author's Note:**

> Awesome beetle diagram used is under creative commons ([here](http://anonym2.com/?http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Nicrophorus_life_cycle.jpg))


End file.
